titer  %otV$  Coming  anb 

GbUbboofr.  SijrtMracIe 

plats.  3B?  Ikatbatine 

Usnan-IDinftson 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


sec 


OUR  LORD'S  COMING 
AND  CHILDHOOD 

SIX  MIRACLE  PLAYS 


'-  /, 


OCT  ' -1  1937 
LOGICAL  8t^ 


emmbine  •  mm  --hinkson 


CHICA60:    STONE-BN)-  KIMBALL-  [ 

l_         I    caXTON-  BUILDIN6  • 1 

LONDON :  JOHNLaNE-THEBODLEy-HEflD- 

i          i  mpcccxom— 


Copyright,  1895,  by 
Stone    &     Kimball 


TO  THE  REV.  T.  DAWSON,  O.M.I. 


CONTENTS 

THE  ANNUNCIATION  9 

THE  VISITATION  23 

THE  NATIVITY  35 
THE  PRESENTATION  IN  THE  TEMPLE  51 

THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT  63 

THE  FINDING  IN  THE  TEMPLE  77 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY  PATTEN  WILSON 

TITLE  PAGE 

«AT  EVENING  IN  HER  GARDEN  CLOSE*  16 
•HAIL  FULL  OF  GRACE'  19 

4  MAGNIFICAT  ANIMA  MEA  DOMINUM'  30 
•TAKE  MOTHER  AND  CHILD,  AND 

RIDE  IN  HASTE'  68 

•GIVE  ME  THY  SON,  I  WILL  HIM 

BATHE'  71 

CHRIST  AND  THE  DOCTORS  86 


Before  I  tell  of  thee,  God's  Son, 

And  all  the  sweet  salvation 

That  Thy  birth  brought  to  labouring  men. 

Make  me  Thy  little  child  again. 

Bid  me  put  off  the  years,  and  be 

Once  more  in  meek  humility 

Thy  little  one  and  wondering-eyed. 

Give  me  their  faith  who  stood  beside 

The  manger  that  Thy  cradle  was; 

Vision  of  oxen  and  of  ass 

To  see  Thee  curled  on  Mary's  knee. 

Yea,  give  me  their  humility. 

Give  me  the  quiet  heart  in  breast, 

And  pure  eye  of  the  kindly  beast 

That  gave  its  meal  to  be  Thy  bed, 

And  so  was  greatly  honoured. 

Ere  I  behold  Thy  mysteries 

Force  Thou  my  soul  upon  her  knees. 


THE  ANNUNCIATION 


Lilies  in  our  garden 

Take  the  light,  pure  and  white; 
Lilies  in  the  moonlight 

Like  a  silver  flame. 
Lilies  in  our  garden 

Shed  perfumes,  all  a-bloom. 
Bearing  then  a  white  lily 

Blessed  Gabriel  came. 

Silver-pale  his  lily 

Like  a  sword  flashed  and  stirred; 
Scimitar  of  Heaven, 

To  lay  Satan  low. 
Shining  like  his  lily 

Mary  went,  sweet,  content, 
Walking  in  her  garden 

Flower  of  gold  and  snow. 

Heaven  hath  no  lily 

That  with  her  can  compare. 
Lily  for  God's  bosom, 

At  the  break  of  day 
Dreaming  in  her  garden, 

Pure  and  fine,  crystalline. 
For  us,  mournful  sinners, 

Maid  Mary,  pray ! 


UbC  Bit*  Yet  my  heart  ached  to  hear  the  noise 
nuncta*    They  used  to  make,  my  two  dead  boys; 
tion  There  was  the  shelf  with  all  their  toys 

Put  from  my  aching  sight. 

I  hungered  for  the  toil  they  made, 
When  in  my  door  there  came  a  shade 
Or  light  perhaps,  I  unafraid, 

Looked  up  and  saw  his  grace. 

And  shading  then  mine  eyes  did  speak, 
Though  all  the  glory  made  me  weak: 
Great  Lord,  what  is  it  that  you  seek 
In  this  unworthy  place? 

fftrst  TKaoman 

What  answered  he? 

SeconD  THHoman 

Most  sweet  and  fair, 
He  said:  I  am  a  wayfarer 
By  fields  of  earth  and  fields  of  air, 
Sad  mother,  and  no  Lord. 

I  turned  and  set  a  chair,  and  laid 
Before  him  wine  and  wheaten  bread, 
And  cherries  white  and  cherries  red 
And  water  in  a  gourd. 

fftrst  TKHoman 
Did  he  partake  ? 

Second  TKfloman 

He  drank ;  and  gave 
His  thanks,  as  sweet  as  when  you  lave 
Tired  feet  within  the  sparkling  wave, 
So  fell  they  on  my  heart. 
14 


Then  asked  he  me  where  lived  the  man  TLhC  Hit* 
Joachim,  and  his  good  wife  Anne,  nuncla^ 

And  took  his  lily  and  staff  again,  ttOlt 

And  blessing,  did  depart. 

GbfrD  limoman  (enterctb) 
Say,  have  ye  seen  him  ?    As  I  came 
Up  from  the  well,  weary  and  lame, 
One  with  the  amber  hair  like  flame 
Dazzled,  and  passed  me  by. 

There  was  a  sudden  burst  of  song, 
And  bells  in  heaven  pealed  loud  and  long; 
What  marvels  while  the  day  is  young 
Are  wrought  in  earth  and  sky  ? 

How  he  was  clad  I  know  not.    Eyes 
That  saw  that  Bird  of  Paradise 
In  plumage  all  of  gold  and  price, 

Still  ache  from  that  fine  sight. 

Since  he  hath  passed  my  foot  hath  rest; 
The  sick  child  crying  on  my  breast 
Sleeps  like  a  young  bird  in  the  nest, 
And  all  the  world  is  light. 

Who  was  he  ? 

ffirst  XCloman 

Rachel  here  can  say. 
His  foot  was  on  her  floor  of  clay; 
(That  floor  belike  was  blest  to-day) ; 
His  hand  was  on  her  head. 

Second  TKaoman 

I  only  know  what  he  did  seem. 
He  sought  our  neighbour  Joachim ; 
But  what  his  embassy  with  him 
The  great  lord  has  not  said. 

15 


XTbe  Hn*  Gbivb  Woman 

nuncia*    Our  neighbour  Joachim  he  hath 

tton  The  fairest  child  in  Nazareth, 

A  lily  snatched  from  sin  and  death, 
Mary,  his  tender  girl. 

At  evening  in  her  garden  close 
She  tends  her  lily  and  her  rose, 
Sweetest  where  many  a  sweet  thing 
blows, 

A  pure  and  perfect  pearl. 

3First  Woman 

Dove's  eyes  are  hers,  and  the  dove's 

heart, 
And  lips  whence  words  of  kindness  start, 
Lonely  and  lovely,  set  apart 

For  some  most  favoured  lot. 

A  living  lily  that  our  God 
Tends  in  a  garden  off  the  road 
Where  never  a  foot  of  man  hath  trod, 
And  evil  weeds  spring  not. 

Secono  Woman 

What  if  some  king  from  over  seas 
Hath  heard  what  pearl  of  price  she  is, 
And  here  hath  sent  his  embassies 
Entreating  her  sweet  hand  ? 

Then  would  he  take  and  set  her  on 
A  burning  diamond  for  her  throne 
And  weave  the  stars  to  make  her  crown 
In  his  most  splendid  land. 


16 


[SCENE  II.— MARY'S  bower.    She  sitteth  alone  spin-    ^TbC  Htt= 
ning.     By  her  side  is  a  lily  in  flower.     Outside  the  case-  ( 

ment  a  bird  in  green  vines  singeth.]  TlUTlCla* 

/Ifcars  tion 

I  would  I  might  praise  perfectly- 
Like  lily  of  mine,  and  wind  and  bee, 
And  like  my  bird  that  sings  to  me, 
The  Lord  of  earth  and  heaven. 

I  but  a  young  maid  am,  and  do 
My  father's  will  and  mother's  too, 
Have  naught  to  choose  and  naught  to  rue 
From  golden  morn  till  even. 

I  sing  and  spin,  I  pray  and  weave, 
And  watch  my  lilies  bud  and  leave, 
And  hear  my  birds  sing  in  the  eave, 
And  ever  muse  upon 

The  Child  that  will  one  day  be  born 
To  lift  our  hapless  world  from  scorn ; 
For  all  our  race  sad  and  forlorn 
To  win  salvation. 

I  never  see  a  babe  at  rest 
Upon  some  village  mother's  breast, 
But  mine  eyes  seek  in  anxious  quest 
If  that  sweet  Babe  be  He. 

I  pray  that  in  my  time  may  rise, 
That  Babe  for  whom  my  heart  hath  eyes. 
That  I  may  ere  my  last  breath  sighs 
That  Rose  of  Sharon  see. 

I  would  I  might  be  handmaiden 
Unto  His  mother.    Blessed  then 
To  sweep  and  cleanse  of  soil  and  stain 
The  house  for  that  fair  Boy. 


UbC  Hn*  Perchance,  His  mother  would  Him  lay 
nimctas*    Once  in  mine  arms,  on  some  sweet  day 
tion  When  she  was  sudden  called  away. 

Then  should  I  die  of  joy. 

Meanwhile  God  sends  me  friends.  They 

come 
In  troops  at  twilight  to  my  room, 
They  sit  and  help  me  at  my  loom 
And  set  the  purple  threads. 

Whereof  I  fashion  without  seam, 
A  purple  garment  in  a  dream, 
Very  lovely  my  strange  guests  gleam 
With  shining  wings  and  head. 

If  I  might  make  His  baby-clothes 
Softer  and  silkier  than  a  rose ! 
Happy  is  she  who  sits  and  sows 
His  robe  of  linen  fine. 

Or  who  shall  wash  His  clothes;  and 

make 
The  bed  where  He  His  rest  shall  take. 
O  Babe,  for  whom  my  heart  doth  ache, 
Sweet  Star,  arise  and  shine ! 

[The  ANGEL  floats  in  mid-air.] 

Gbe  angel 
Hail  Mary ! 

Who  art  thou  to  come 
In  such  strange  splendour  to  my  room? 
Brethren  of  thine  do  haunt  my  loom, 

Yet  those  by  thee  were  dim. 

18 


Cbe  angel  TLbC  Hn= 

Hail,  Full  of  Grace!    Blessed  art  thou    nuncta* 
Among  all  women.    With  thee  now        ttOXl 
The  Lord  is.    He  before  whom  bow 
Seraphim,  Cherubim. 

I  fear.    What  dost  thou  seek  of  me  ? 

Zbc  angel 

Fear  not!  The  Lord  has  honoured  thee, 
Thou  shalt  conceive  and  mother  be 
Of  a  most  Holy  Son. 

And  Jesus  thou  shalt  call  His  Name. 
He  shall  be  great  and  of  great  fame, 
Son  of  the  Highest ;  and  the  same 
Shall  reign  on  David's  throne. 

His  Power  and  Kingdom  shall  not  end, 
Power  of  the  Highest  shall  descend, 
The  Holy  Ghost  shall  hover  and  bend 
Above  thee,  Blessed  Maid. 

flftar$ 

Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord! 
Be  it  according  to  His  Word. 
Now  come,  Thou  great  and  golden  Bird! 
No  more  am  I  afraid. 


19 


She  said,  Thy  will  be  done, 
And,  lo  !  the  Holy  One 

Took  life  within  her  breast. 
The  trembling  Heart  of  Love 
Began  to  throb  and  move 

Where  Love  had  built  His  nest. 

When  many  years  were  gont 
He  said,  Thy  will  be  done, 

And,  lo!  His  Passion-Hour 
Broke  on  the  world's  black  night; 
The  long-desired  dawn-light 

Oped  like  a  rose-red  flower. 

Sweet  Mother  and  sweet  Son, 
Who  with,  Thy  will  be  done, 

Fulfilled  the  Father's  will, 
Give  to  our  hearts  to  say 
Ever,  although  He  slay, 

His  will  be  blessed  still ! 


THE  VISITATION 


Though  all  unmeet  for  that, 
Let  us  draw  nigh  to  hear 

Mary's  Magnificat, 
Tender  and  without  fear. 

Worthless,  and  flawed,  and  small, 

Yet  let  us  cry  and  swell 
Her  praise  angelical, 

Who  praiseth  Thee  right  well. 


THE  VISITATION 

[SCENE  I.— The  Inner  Sanctuary  of  the  Temple.  Out- 
side a  great  multitude  prayeth;  within  the  blessed  ZACH- 
ARY  kneeleth  and  swingeth  a  censer.] 

^acbar^ 

FLOAT  clouds  and  wreathe  the  feet 
of  Him 
Who  sitteth  on  the  cherubim 
Whose  hair  hath  made  the  noontide  dim, 
Whose  face  warm  splendours  veil. 

Bear  Him  our  praise,  that  worlds  away, 
Worship  Him  from  our  hearts  of  clay ; 
And  pray  Him  take  reproach  away 

Wherewith  the  world  grows  pale. 

Years  come  and  go.  The  world's  womb 

bears 
Myriads  of  men,  sad  labourers, 
Whose  groans  are  heavy  in  His  ears: 
And  yet  there  tarrieth 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness  that  shall 
Lift  from  the  world  her  heavy  pall, 
And  bid  us  stand  rejoicing  all, 

Escaped  from  living  death. 

Blessed  their  seed  from  whom  shall 

spring 
The  great  Deliverer  and  the  King, 
Yea,  and  our  sin's  burnt-offering 
For  whom  the  nations  pray! 

27 


Ube        And  blessed  He  who  biddeth  come 
DtBita*  The  barren  and  the  fruitful  womb, 
tion        And  some  hath  filled  right  full  and  some 
Hath  empty  sent  away. 

[THE  ANGEL  appeareth  standing  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  altar  of  incense.] 

^acbarg 

I  fear  thee,  Angel  of  the  Lord, 
Thine  armour  and  thy  flaming  sword. 
Winged  art  thou  like  the  golden  bird 
That  holds  His  mysteries. 

Leave  me,  who  dare  not  even  behold, 
Thy  shoon  of  diamond  and  of  gold! 
What  dost  thou  do  with  me,  grown  old 
And  empty  and  unwise  ? 

Gbe  Bngel 

Fear  not!    Thy  prayer  hath  reached 

the  Throne, 
Elizabeth  shall  bear  a  son, 
The  which  his  name  thou  shalt  call  John, 
And  he  will  bring  great  joy. 

Not  only  unto  thee  grown  gray 
And  her,  so  patient  many  a  day, 
Whose  long  reproach  is  taken  away. 
But  to  the  world,  this  boy. 

He  shall  be  great  in  the  Lord's  sight. 
Wine  nor  strong  drink  shall  him  delight. 
The  Holy  Ghost  shall  fill  him  quite 
Even  from  his  mother's  breast. 

And  he  shall  make  the  Lord  his  road, 
And  turn  the  children's  hearts  to  God, 
And  like  Elias  walk  abroad 

With  power  and  spirit  blest. 


#acbars  ^e 

How  shall  we  know  these  tidings  dear  ?  Dtsitas 
For  we  are  old  this  many  a  year.  tion 

So  long  the  Lord  delayed  to  hear, 
Our  last  sweet  hope  is  dead. 

Gbe;Bngel 

Gabriel  am  I,  who  stand  before 
The  Presence,  while  the  heavens  adore 
And  gold  wings  sweep  the  golden  floor 
And  many  a  golden  head. 

Gabriel  am  I,  His  messenger, 
His  Archangel  trusty  and  dear. 
And  mine  the  greatest  Word  to  bear, 
To  men  who  toil  and  die. 

But  since  to  hear  me  thou  art  slow, 
Be  dumb  until  these  things  be  so. 
And  by  this  token  thou  shalt  know 
The  Lord  hath  heard  thy  cry. 

[SCENE  II.— At  the  door  of  ZACHARY,  his  house, 
MARY  lighteth  down  from  the  ass  which  JOSEPH  lead- 
eth.     All  below  stretch  plain  and  river.] 

ZlfcarE 

Thanks,  little  ass,  who  did  me  bear 
To  this  hill-country,  blest  and  fair, 
And  a  more  precious  wayfarer 

Than  thou  canst  understand. 

Blessed  be  thou,  O  patient  one, 
For  kindest  service  kindly  done 
To  me  and  my  most  royal  Son, 
The  King  of  many  a  land. 

Sosepb 

Art  tired,  my  dearest  ?    Here  is  peace 

In  this  white  house  'mid  apple-trees, 

29 


QbC       Where  thou  canst  rest  and  take  thine 

Utetta*      ease. 

ttou  A  land  of  honey  and  milk. 

See,  then,  how  far  below  the  plain, 
The  river  but  a  silver  stain 
That  windeth  in  and  out  again, 
A  ribbon  all  of  silk. 

How  thick  the  grape-vine  groweth  o'er 
My  cousin,  Zachary,  his  door. 
'Twere  sweet  to  sit  an  hour  or  more, 
And  taste  the  purple  vine, 

Here  on  this  bench.    Although  in  truth 
The  Father  of  my  Babe  made  smooth 
My  way,  and  many  a  gold-haired  youth 
Served  me  with  milk  and  wine. 

[ELIZABETH  appeareth  in  the  doorway  coming  to 
welcome  them.  Of  a  sudden  she  is  seized  with  a  tremor 
and  falleth  at  MARY'S  feet.] 

JEUsabetb 

Blessed  art  thou,  so  kind  to  come 
And  visit  my  unworthy  home ! 
The  child  hath  leapt  within  my  womb 
Hailing  thy  Holy  One. 

Blessed  art  thou,  tender  and  young, 
Blessed  art  thou  women  among. 
Thou  bearest  Whom  saints  foretold  and 
sung. 

Blessed  thy  blessed  Son. 

/HbatE  (tateetb  bcr  banos  to  beaven) 

Magnificat  anima  mea  Dominum. 
Et  exultavit  spiritus  meus  in  Deo  Salutari  meo. 
Quia  respexit  humilitatem  ancillae  suae;  ecce  enim 
ex  hoc  beatem  me  dicent  omnes  generationes. 


tion 


Quia  fecit  mihi  magna  qui  potens  est;  et  sanctum  JZbc 

nomen  ejus.  Df  Sitfl- 

Et  misericordia  ejus  a  progenie    in    progenies 

timentibus  eum. 
Fecit  potentiam  in  brachio  suo ;  dispersit  superbos 

mente  cordis  sui. 
Deposuit  potentes  de  sede  et  exaltavit  humiles. 
Esurientes  implevit  bonis  et  divites  dimisit  inanes. 
Suscepit  Israel  puerum  suum  recordatus   miseri- 

cordiae  suae. 
Sicut  locutus  est  ad  patres  nostros  Abraham,  et 

semini  ejus  in  scecula. 

J6lf3abetb 

Now  am  I  highly  honoured. 
Thy  table  will  I  gladly  spread, 
And  bring  thee  milk  and  whitest  bread, 
And  wash  thy  tender  feet: 

And  while  thou  bidest  with  me,  will  be 
Thy  handmaiden  most  reverently. 
The  Lord  look  on  this  house  and  me, 

And  make  us  worthy,  sweet. 
dlbar£ 

Dear  cousin,  I  am  come  to  stay 
Three  months  upon  thy  happy  way, 
To  help  thee  at  thy  work,  and  pray, 

And  talk  with  thee  upon 

What  God  hath  done  for  us,  and  praise 
His  Name.    And  sweet  the  happy  days 
With  household  tasks  in   this   sweet 
place, 

And  thy  son  and  my  Son. 

At  morning  we  will  bake  and  brew, 
And  dust  and  sweep  each  morn  anew, 
And  gather  berries  cool  with  dew, 
And  in  the  afternoon 

31 


tion 


IDtStta*  ^J11  sew  our  baby-clothes,  and  kiss 

"  The  cloth  where  his  sweet  limbs  and  His 
Shall  curl,  more  softly  than  the  rose  is 
That  openeth  in  June. 

[Turneth  to  her  spouse.] 

Here's  Joseph  then.    He  hath  put  up 
Our  ass  and  given  him  bite  and  sup. 
He  now  will  gladly  taste  thy  cup, 

And  share  thy  fruit  and  bread. 

And  afterwards  wilt  take  us  where 
Thy  garden  hangs  in  scented  air  ? 
But  here  the  Lord  seems  everywhere, 
Heaven  is  so  close  o'erhead. 


She  is  come  with  tender  speed 
All  to  help  a  woman's  need. 

She  has  brought  that  house  within, 
Folded  up  in  leaves  of  green, 

Rose  of  Sharon,  that  shall  bud 
To  a  Rose  as  red  as  blood. 

Maid  and  mother,  turn  with  speed 
To  all  women  in  their  need. 

Turn  to  all  who  travail  sore, 
Light  and  comfort  in  the  door. 

Bring  Thy  Son  with  thee  and  rest 
While  their  need  is  heaviest. 


THE  NATIVITY 


The  fold  at  midnight 

Was  light  as  the  noon, 
And  in  a  tree  a  birdie  bright 

Sang  still  the  gladdest  tune. 

With  wings  of  gold  sheen, 

And  gold  head  and  hood, 
He  was  the  fairest  bird,  I  ween, 

That  ever  sang  in  wood. 

He  sang  sweet  and  low, 

He  sang  loud  and  shrill ; 
Above  the  stable  in  the  snow, 

The  Star  stood  still. 

The  shepherd  swains  said  then — 

Each  fell  on  his  knee — 
That  was  the  very  sweetest  strain 

Was  ever  sung  in  tree. 

Are  many  birds  in  bower 

With  many  a  dulcet  song; 
But  none  like  him  who  sang  that  hour 

The  Christmas  boughs  among. 


God's   Way  of  Giving 

'Twere  bliss  to  see  one  lark 

Soar  in  the  azure  dark, 

Singing  upon  his  high  celestial  road, 

I  have  seen  many  hundred  soar,  thank  God  ! 

To  see  one  spring  begin 

In  her  first  heavenly  green 

Were  grace  unmeet  for  any  mortal-clod, 

I  have  seen  many  springs,  thank  God  ! 

After  the  lark  the  swallow, 

Blackbirds  in  the  hill  and  hollow, 

Thrushes  and  nightingales,  all  roads  I  trod, 

As  though  one  bird  were  not  enough,  thank  God  ! 

Not  one  flower,  but  a  rout, 
All  exquisite,  are  out  ; 
All  white  and  golden  every  stretch  of  sod, 
As  though  one  flower  were  not  enough,  thank  God  ! 

— Katharine  Tyn; 


THE  NATIVITY 

[SCENE  I.— Shepherds  on  a  hillside,  watching  their 
flocks  by  night.] 

ffirst  Sbepbero 

THE  frost  is  crackling  in  the  grass : 
'Twere  well  the  flock  warm-housed 
was. 
How  merrily  now  the  time  would  pass 
Were  I  by  mine  own  fire. 

Second  Sbepbero 

Ay,  neighbour,  sad  the  shepherd's  lot. 
Whether  the  wind  be  cold  or  not, 
He  must  away  from  wife  and  cot, 
To  frozen  field  and  byre. 

JFfrst  Sbepbero 
Where's  Jacob? 

Secono  Sbepbero 

See !  he  cometh  now 
Yonder,  over  the  wheatfield  brow ; 
And  in  his  arms  he  hath,  I  trow, 
A  young  lamb,  newly  born. 

Let 's  heap  the  fire ;  the  wind  brings  snow; 
And  feed  the  little  life  that 's  low ; 
Lamb's  life  and  babe's  life  flickering  go 
In  this  gray  hour  ere  morn. 

39 


UbC       TOfefc  Sbepberfc  (entering,  a  lamb  in  bis  arms) 
IRatiV*  Brothers,  a  little  lamb  I  bring, 
it£  A  curled  and  soft  and  helpless  thing; 

Its  mother  died  at  birth-giving ; 
And  see  the  blood  upon 

The  fleece !  as  though  one  marked  it  thus 
For  sacrifice  most  piteous. 
There  's  room  enough  for  this  with  us, 
Beside  my  little  son. 

3First  Sbepbero 

Brothers,  the  night  grows  still  and  fair, 
What  balmy  warmth  is  in  the  air  ? 
Look  ye,  whence  comes  that  splendid 
Star, 

Travelling  to  Bethlehem  ? 

Gbfrfc  Sbepbero 

To-night  some  marvels  we  shall  see. 
Golden-clad  folk  went  down  by  me, 
All  shimmering  from  the  head  to  knee, 
Each  with  a  diadem. 

Second  SbepberD 

Peace  now !    For  see  above  our  hill 
The  heavens  are  opening  wide,  until 
The  golden  glory  bids  us  kneel 

And  praise  God  in  the  night. 

See,  rows  on  rows  of  shining  ones, 
All  chanting,  in  their  silver  tones, 
Matins  and  Lauds  and  Orisons, 
In  one  long  golden  flight ! 
Gbe  Hngels  Singing 
Gloria  in  Excelsis  Deo, 
Et  in  terra  pax  hominibus 
Bonae  voluntatis ! 

40 


fffrst  Sbepberfc  ^IDe 

Lo !  they  are  hushed ;  but  flutes  begin    IRatftte 
A  silver  music,  soft  and  thin.  Ug 

In  one  long  trail  the  stars  move  in 
And  lean  above  the  town. 

'Tis  the  stars  singing  that  we  hear, 
Like  silver  trumpets  ringing  clear. 
How  purely  floats  each  silver  sphere. 
We  too  will  travel  down. 

an 

Come  up,  come  up,  black  fleece  and  white, 
Wether  and  ewe,  and  lamb  so  light, 
And  you,  the  wean  was  born  to-night, 
Come  follow  the  Star's  track ! 

It  beckons  us  the  way  it  goes, 

And  Tib,  our  dog,  the  creature  knows, 

He  too,  in  bitter  frosts  and  snows, 

Saw  Gates  of  Heaven  rolled  back. 

(They  gather  up  their  belongings,  and  all  go  out.) 

[SCENE  II.— The  stable.  Mary  sitteth  in  the  grass  of 
the  manger,  the  BABE  on  her  knee.  JOSEPH  kneeleth 
by  her.  The  ox  and  the  ass  mildly  gaze  upon  her  and  her 
SON.] 

dfcarE 

Sweet  Son,  and  is  it  thus  you  come 
To  such  a  poor,  unworthy  home  ? 
Better  than  this  was  Mary's  womb, 
Unworthy  though  it  were. 

Nine  months  have  I  desired  you,  sweet, 
To  kiss  your  prisoned  hands  and  feet, 
But  never  dreamt  your  face  to  greet 
In  a  sad  stable,  bare. 

Sleep,  little  one,  sleep  sweet,  mine  own! 
Mother  shall  rock  her  dearest  one. 


Ube       To-night  He  is  her  own,  her  Son, 
IRattV*  Whatever  the  years  bring. 


its 


In  Nazareth  she  hath  laid  by 
Great  store  of  baby  napery, 
With  lavender  sweet  and  rosemary, 
All  for  her  Baby  King. 

3osepb 

Mary,  give  me  His  feet  to  kiss. 
Alack,  that  in  such  a  place  as  this 
The  Child  is  born,  Whom  on  my  knees 
Most  humbly  I  adore. 

Thou  knowest  how  through  this  cold- 
heart  town, 
Weary,  I  travelled  up  and  down, 
Praying  a  shelter  for  mine  own, 
All  in  her  need  so  sore. 

There  was  no  woman,  sweet,  to  come 
And  take  thy  hand,  and  lead  thee  home, 
And  find  the  hours  not  wearisome, 
To  watch  by  thee  till  morn ; 

And  with  a  woman's  art  to  soothe 
The  Holy  Babe,  and  wash  and  clothe. 
Great  glory  they  have  lost,  in  truth, 
By  their  cold  hearts  of  scorn. 

Come  hither,  little  ox  and  ass, 
That  gave  my  Son  your  scented  grass; 
His  Hand  shall  o'er  your  foreheads  pass 
In  love  and  thanksgiving  ! 

What  would  we  do,  both  He  and  I, 
Had  ye  the  cold  world's  cruelty, 
4a 


Shelter  and  cradle  to  deny  UbC 

To  this  most  Holy  Thing?  IRatiV* 

(The  Ass  and  Ox  kneel  down.)  tt£ 

Now  bless  them,  little  Baby  Son, 
Thy  wrath  for  their  oppression ; 
Thy  blessing  when  there  's  kindness 
done 

To  these  who  gave  Thee  bed. 

Yea,  blessed  these  so  wistful-eyed 
That  watched  Thy  bed  of  birth  beside, 
And  heard  Thee  when  Thy  dear  voice 
cried, 

And  saw  Thee  clothed  and  fed. 

0  little  ass  and  ox,  in  truth 
Great  glory  shall  accrue  to  both, 
For  when  the  cold  world  lay  in  sloth 

Ye  kept  the  watch  with  joy. 

And  by  your  breath  the  frosts  were 

thawed, 
Your  kind  brown  eyes  saw  and  were 

awed; 
King  of  the  world,  the  angels'  God, 
And  mine  own  new-born  Boy. 

Sosepb 

Now,  by  the  golden  light  of  stars, 

And  the  great  crown  each  angel  wears, 

1  see  a  throng  of  wayfarers. 

Coming  across  the  moor 

Are  shepherd  men,  and  men  like  kings, 
And  every  one  his  present  brings; 
The  sheep,  the  shepherds'  shepherdings, 
And  dog,  are  at  our  door. 

(Kings  and  Shepherds  enter  and  kneel.) 
43 


XTbe       dftelcbfor 

IRatftte  We  are  three  kings  from  farthest  Ind, 
it£  Travelled  these  many  weeks  to  find 

The  greatest  King  of  all  mankind. 

And  since  the  Star  hath  shown 

That  this  most  precious  Babe  is  He, 
We  worship  Him  on  bended  knee, 
With  silk  and  spice  of  Araby, 

And  gold  to  build  His  throne. 

I,  Melchior  am,  old  beyond  man, 
Ages  ago  my  reign  began; 
Now  to  this  Babe  of  scarce  a  span 
I  kneel,  and  kiss  His  feet. 

Dear  King,  Thou  sweet  and  tender  One, 
Linen  I  bring  Thee  finely  spun, 
And  cloth  of  gold  for  Mary's  Son, 
To  be  His  garb  unmeet. 

Caspar 

Widowed  of  love,  I  frozen-eyed, 

Since  the  black  grave  had  snatched  my 

bride, 
Watching  one  night  pavilions  wide 
Of  stars  in  a  dark  field, 

Saw  one  Star  ruddier  than  a  rose; 
And  by  my  palace  casement  close 
Heard  a  great  voice:  The  way  it  goes 
Follow:  thy  wounds  are  healed. 

Yea,  we  have  followed  patiently. 
Thou  gentle  Babe,  now  take  from  me 
Sendal  and  spice  from  over  sea, 

And  frankincense  and  myrrh. 


And  I,  too,  kiss  Thy  tender  feet,  TLbC 

Where  the  red  blood  doth  pulse  and  beat,  IRattV* 
Making  a  stain  both  dark  and  sweet,      tt£ 
As  though  a  nail  went  there. 

3Baltba3ar 

I,  young,  with  all  the  world  before, 
Glory,  and  love,  and  power  in  store, 
Kneeling  most  humbly,  I  adore 

The  Babe  in  swaddling  clothes. 

The  Star  to  me  sang  clear,  there  was 
Here  in  the  manger  and  the  grass, 
A  King  whose  greatness  did  surpass 
All  that  a  mortal  knows. 

Sweet  little  Child,  the  gold  I  bring 
Is  an  unworthy  offering. 
But  would  that  for  my  kingliest  King 
A  palace  I  might  build, 

With  hall,  and  tower,  and  shining  stair 
All  of  the  gold  and  ivory  fair, 
And  million  windows  in  the  air 
That  the  late  sunsets  gild. 

aftrst  SbepberD 

Hail  Thou  Whom  the  Star  heralded 
Comely  and  tender  in  Thy  bed. 
Lady,  I  bring  to  His  Godhead, 
Being  but  a  little  Child, 

A  bunch  of  cherries,  smooth  and  ripe, 

Likewise  a  shepherd's  oaten  pipe; 

He  laughs  whilst  thou  the  tears  dost 

wipe, 
To  see  my  cherries  wild. 


Qfte       Second  Sbepberfc 

IRatiV*  Hail,    Sovereign    Saviour,   Who   hast 

tt£  sought 

Us,  by  Thy  seeking  brought  to  naught, 
Wilt  take  a  little  bird  I  caught, 

That  hath  a  tuneful  throat? 

Sweetest  of  sweetings,  happy  this 
That  Thou  shouldst  greet  it  with  a  kiss, 
And  in  Thy  sweet  hand  make  its  bliss, 
And  chirrup  to  its  note. 

GbirD  Sbepberfc 

Hail,  dearest  dear,  full  of  Godhead, 
Be  with  me  in  mine  utmost  need. 
Alack,  to  see  Thee  in  such  weed 
Of  pleasant  things  forlorn! 

Behold,  I  bring  thee  but  a  ball, 
The  which  a  child  finds  good  withal. 
Hail,  Holy  King,  asleep  in  stall, 

Of  Whom  the  world  hath  scorn! 

Kind  gentlefolk,  who  came  to  seek 
My  little  Son,  new-born  and  weak; 
I  thank  you,  since  He  cannot  speak, 
And  lift  his  hand  to  bless, 

At  in-going  and  out-coming 
And  on  your  homeward  wayfaring, 
And  wife  and  wean  and  everything 
Ye  hold  in  tenderness: 

Be  free  from  woe,  where'er  ye  go, 
Kind  gentlefolk,  that  honour  so 
The  Babe  that  came  in  frost  and  snow. 
He  bids  ye  go  in  peace. 

46 


To  Kings  and  kindly  shepherd  men,  XLbe 

And  dog,  and  sheep  that  turn  again,  t\attV* 

Of  His  sweet  countenance  full  fain,  ftE 
Be  health  and  full  increase. 

Gbe  angels  Singing 

Laudamus  te,  benedicimus  te,  adoramus 

te, 
Glorificamus  te.     Gratias  agimus  tibi 
Propter  magnam  gloriam  tuam. 


There  lay  the  Baby  King, 

Holy  and  undefiled  ; 
The  earth  can  show  no  sweeter  thing 

Than  a  little  child. 

A  flower  is  fine  and  sweet, 

And  sweet  is  a  bird, 
But  sweeter  far  from  head  to  feet 

Was  the  Baby  Lord. 

A  lamb  is  very  meek, 

And  pure  is  a  dove ; 
The  Lamb  of  God  was  small  and  weak, 

All  purity  above. 

Most  blessed  was  she 

Who  had  Him  for  her  own ; 
Who  rocked  Him  on  her  tender  knee, 

Whose  bosom  was  His  throne. 

Right  blessed  she  was 

Who  fed  Him  at  her  breast, 
And  while  the  nine  sweet  months  did  pass 

Made  for  Him  a  nest. 


THE  PRESENTATION  IN  THE 
TEMPLE 


For  Him  was  offered  up 

A  pair  of  doves,  whose  harmless  veins 
Should  brim  His  sacrificial  cup 

And  wash  away  His  stains. 

His  stains,  withouten  spot, 
All  golden  pure  from  head  to  feet ; 

The  doves  in  binding  meshes  caught, 
Of  Him  were  emblems  meet. 

Yea,  for  His  mother's  blame 

In  bearing  Him,  the  doves  were  given, 
O  thou  who  takest  away  Eve's  shame, 

And  openest  gates  of  heaven: 

Is  't  thus  thou  comest,  sweet, 
So  lowly  with  thy  glories  dim  ? 

They  cannot  see  from  head  to  feet — 
God's  light  wraps  thee  and  Him. 


THE  PRESENTATION  IN  THE 
TEMPLE 

[SCENE  I.— Outside  the  gates  of  the  Temple.  On  the 
Temple  steps  are  seated  mendicants,  etc.  A  group  of 
women  of  all  ranks  waiting.  MARY  entereth  with  the 
CHILD  in  her  arms,  and  JOSEPH,  who  carrieth  two 
doves.    They  wait  at  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.] 

HERE  seemeth  now  a  goodly  throng: 
I  pray  our  waiting  be  not  long, 
Lest  that  the  Babe,  not  over-strong, 
Should  suffer  and  repine. 

I  praise  His  Father  with  full  voice, 
And  with  my  sisters  here  rejoice, — 
All  joy  be  with  these  mothers  of  boys 
Who  have  a  joy  like  mine! 

Sosepb 

Art  thou  not  tired?  The  doves  wilt  take, 
And  I  the  Child?  He  will  not  wake. 
Thou'lt  see  what  careful  nurse  I  make  — 
I  shall  not  let  Him  fall. 

d&arE 

Nay,  Joseph;  for  we  lightlier  go 

Than  thy  sweet  pigeons  winged  with 

snow. 
I  would  He  might  be  ever  so, 

Nor  leave  mine  arms  at  all. 

55 


H>resen* 
tation 
in  tbe 
Uemple 


Sad  is  it  for  the  mother  when 
Her  babies  grow  to  fearless  men, 
And  never  can  be  small  again, 

And  she  their  moon  and  sun. 

But  the  child  wakes.   My  sweeting,  see 
Babies  like  Thee,  but  none  like  Thee, 
Of  high  degree  and  low  degree, 
And  cheerful  every  one. 

And  yonder,  little  Lamb,  behold, 
A  white  ass  and  his  gear  of  gold. 
I  would  my  Baby,  five  weeks  old, 
On  such  an  one  might  ride. 

And  see  Thy  doves!  Each  pretty  neck 
Shot  with  the  rose  and  purple  streak, 
But  snowy  wings  without  a  fleck, 
And  wee  feet,  scarlet-dyed. 

[A  woman  approacheth  with  a  curtsey,  and  speaketh.] 

Lady,  thy  Baby  is  so  fair, 
Such  waves  of  glory  on  His  hair, 
We,  mothers  of  many  babes,  aver 
Was  never  such  a  child. 

SeconD  moman 

Such  babe  as  this  the  Prophets  saw 
Foreshadowed  in  our  ancient  law. 
Tender  He  is,  yet  full  of  awe, 
A  Lamb  all  undefiled. 

Jffrst  Woman 

He  seems  to  bless  our  babes  and  us 
With  His  dear  smile  and  gracious. 
A  sweeter  smile  than  babies  use, 
He  hath,  this  lovely  Thing. 
56 


O  hands  like  rosebuds  crumpled  close,  UhC 
And  little  feet  like  any  rose,  presets 

0  Rose  that  in  the  winter  blows,  fatten 

Of  all  the  roses  King!  in  tbe 

[The  Temple  doors  open.     As  they  pass  in,  a  beggar  *^ 

toucheth  his  sores  to  MARY'S  gown  and  is  healed.     He 
standeth  in  the  sunlight  praising  GOD.] 

Sosepb  (loquitur) 

Marvels  are  all  about  thy  path, 
Rose  in  the  world  of  sin  and  death; 
Blessed  the  man  whose  eye  seeth 
Mother  and  Baby  blest! 

Yea,  blessed  I,  who  have  for  spouse 
This  Lily  with  the  silver  brows. 
And  her  sweet  Son  within  mine  house, 
My  foster-Son  and  Guest! 

Meek  and  obedient  hath  she  been, 
Since  by  the  winding  ways  of  green 

1  led  her  home,  and  brought  her  in 

Across  my  threshold  poor. 

No  child  is  simpler  than  this  Maid 
And  Mother.    Awe  makes  me  afraid 
To  see  her  bake  our  daily  bread, 

And  wash,  and  sweep  our  floor. 

No  common  household  task,  not  one, 
Is  there  that  she  hath  left  undone. 
So  many  linen  webs  hath  spun, 
So  many  simples  brewed. 

Our  house  is  sweet  with  sunlit  air, 
Wherein  God  lays  His  secrets  bare, 
And  works  His  marvels  past  compare 
From  day  to  day  renewed. 

57 


ZTbe 

presen* 
tation 
in  tbe 
XTempie 


[SCENE  II.— The  Temple.  The  other  women  are  filing 
through  distant  door.  SIMEON  waiteth  by  the  altar. 
ANNA  THE  PROPHETESS  on  her  knees  prayeth.  MARY 
advanceth,  holding  the  CHILD  on  her  outstretched  arms.] 

Simeon 

Who  is  it?    Speak,  for  I  am  blind 
And  old  and  tired,  and  yet  designed 
To  see  great  things  before  the  wind 
Of  death  hath  blown  me  out. 

O  in  my  dark  the  glory  grows, 

And  on  my  heart  the  rapture  flows, 
Like  his,  who  sees  at  last  and  knows, 
God's  light  his  head  about. 

Speak!  Is  the  time  come?  I  should  stay, 
Yea,  even  to  the  eternal  day, 
Though  all  the  planets  withered  away, 
Until  my  Star  was  risen. 

My  Star  that  breaks  through  night  and 

gloom, 
And  through  the  darkness  of  the  tomb, 
And  to  my  sightless  eyes  is  come 
As  to  the  souls  in  prison. 

dftatE 

This  is  Babe  Jesus,  small  and  fair: 
And  I  the  Mother  did  Him  bear, 
Spouse  of  Joseph  the  carpenter; 
Of  Nazareth  are  we. 

And  here  I  offer,  holy  priest, 
These  pretty  doves  with  irised  breast, 
That  he  and  I  may  be  released, 
And  of  the  birth-stain  free. 

[She  placeth  the  BABE  in  SIMEON'S  arms.] 
58 


Simeon  (liftetb  bte  sfgbtless  eges)  XTbe 

Nunc  dimittis  servum  tuum,     Domine,  secundum  JptCSCtls* 

verbum  tuum  in  pace.  tfltf  Ott 

Quia  viderunt  oculi  mei  salutare  tuum.      Quod  *      ^  * 

parasti  ante  faciem  omnium  populorum,  **}  *•"£ 

Lumen  ad  revelationem  Gentium,  et  gloriam  plebis  VLCITiplC 
tuae  Israel. 

Hnna 

This  I  have  waited  for  is  come, 
And  it  is  time  I  were  gone  home, 
Full  threescore  years  since  on  a  tomb 
My  widow's  tears  were  shed. 

I  prayed  my  dim  eyes  should  not  close 
In  death's  sweet  silence  and  repose, 
Till  on  the  world's  thick  darkness  rose 
The  Star  of  the  Godhead. 

Glory  to  Him  who  heard  my  prayer. 
To  Child  and  Mother  did  Him  bear. 
Mary,  spouse  of  the  carpenter, 

Be  praised  in  prayer  and  song. 

In  whom  the  great  Light  woke  and  grew, 
Of  whom  world's  hope  was  born  anew, 
From  whose  sweet  breast  the  Baby  drew 
The  milk  to  make  Him  strong. 

Simeon 

This  Child  is  set  for  rise  and  fall 
Of  many  an  one  in  Israel  all; 
A  sign  they  speak  against  withal 
When  many  years  are  past. 

Yea,  thine  own  heart  the  sword  shall  ope, 
Thou  mournful  Mother  of  our  Hope. 
So  may  the  many  hearts  yield  up 
Their  secrets  at  the  last. 


prescn*  Thy  words  are  dark,  thou  holy  man; 
tatton       Yet  swift  and  sudden  the  swords  ran 
fit  tbC      Piercing  my  heart.    The  pain  began 
^Temple  Upon  thy  prophecy, 

Of  some  dark  day  when  One  must  die. 
O  very  dimly  I  descry 
Three  crosses  under  a  maddened  sky: 
All  else  is  hid  from  me. 

Come,  little  Lamb,  there  is  sweet  peace 
At  home  beneath  our  cherry  trees, 
And  dappled  skies  of  blue  and  fleece 

From  whence  the  sweet  airs  fall; 

And  arbors  where  a  little  one 
Might  shelter  from  the  noonday  sun; 
And  alleys  green  where  he  might  run 
When  he  would  play  at  ball. 

Sleep,  little  Bird;  sleep  sweet,  my  Dove, 
In  Mother's  arms  and  Mother's  love. 
From  Nazareth  we  shall  not  rove, 
My  little  Boy  and  I. 

In  Nazareth  angels'  wings  brood  o'er 
With  angels  kneeling  by  our  door, 
And  feet  of  angels  on  our  floor, 

And  swords  of  angels  nigh. 

Let  us  go  home;  for  home  is  best, 
Child  Jesus!  where  love  builds  Thy  nest, 
And  none  can  harm  Thee,  loveliest, 
Except  Thy  Father  will. 

On  Him  in  trust  my  cares  I  lay, 
For  this  and  for  a  distant  day. 
Be  His  to  save  or  His  to  slay, — 
Blessed  His  Name  be  still! 

60 


The  blind  old  priest  of  sacrifice, 
Lifting  to  Heaven  his  sightless  eyes, 
Praised  God  that  unto  him  was  given 
To  hold  the  Baby  new  from  Heaven, 
Child  -  King  of  earth  and  Paradise. 

To  that  meek,  trembling  Mother-Maid, 
What  were  the  words  of  woe  he  said  ? 
O  little  Sword  of  God,  that  went 
Through  her  kind  heart  and  innocent; 
Thus  was  her  mother-love  repaid. 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT 


The  false  gods  from  their  place  fell  down, 
And  they  were  broken,  one  and  all, 

When  there  came  to  the  Egyptian  town 
Mother  and  Baby  fair  and  small. 

jfn  from  the  desert  where  long  syne 
Thou  soughtest  for  me,  come  speedily, 

My  walled  town,  closed  to  trump  of  thine, 
Opens  unto  Thy  baby  cry. 

See,  the  false  gods  are  on  their  face, 

Broken  to  pieces  altogether  ; 
My  soul  is  as  a  desert  place, 

Yet  come,  dear  Child  from  wind  and  weather. 


THE  FLIGHT  INTO  EGYPT 

[SCENE  I.— JOSEPH  sleepeth  in  a  room  white  with 
moonlight.  Outside  Bethlehem  lieth  still  in  the  morn. 
JOSEPH  dreameth  and  uttereth  aloud  his  dream.] 

5osepb 

ARE    they  not  safe?    I  heard,  me- 
thought, 
The  crying  of  women  sore  distraught, 
And  through  that  lonely  sound  I  caught 
The  shriek  of  babes,  and  then 

Clashing  of  swords,  and  oaths,  and  fierce 
Wild  laughter  rang  against  mine  ears. 
Mine  eyes  beheld  the  dripping  spears 
In  hands  of  wicked  men. 

Twas  night  in  Bethlehem  did  seem 
All  through  the  horror  of  my  dream. 
And  'Woe!'  and  'Woe  to  Bethlehem!' 
I  heard  a  voice  cry  on. 

And  yet  I  know  the  small  town  lies 
Soothed  by  the  sweetest  lullabies, 
Watched  by  a  million  starry  eyes 
That  gaze  until  the  dawn. 

I  know  the  babies  lie  at  rest, 
Each  rosy  on  its  mother's  breast, 
Wherein  Love  makes  the  tenderest  nest. 
O  hard-heart  little  town! 


Ube       That  bade  my  Dearest  in  her  need 
ffligbt  Take  refuge  in  the  cattle-shed, 
ifnto      And  gave  her  sweetest  Son  for  bed 
J£3£Pt  The  cattle's  manger  brown. 

Nevertheless  sleep  well,  and  far 
Away  from  thee  those  cries  of  war! 
Sleep  sweetly  under  the  Birthnight  Star 
Until  the  cock  shall  crow. 

The  while  I  list,  as  soft  as  love 
The  tender  breathing  of  my  Dove 
And  the  dear  Babe  her  heart  above 
Breathing  so  soft  and  low. 

[A  radiance  floated  in  his  dream,  in  the  midst  of  which 
appeareth  THE  ANGEL  OF  THE  LORD.] 

Zhe  Bngel 

Joseph,  arise!  no  time  for  sleep 
If  thou  thy  trust  with  God  wouldst  keep. 
Leave  Bethlehem  town  to  wail  and  weep, 
But  thou,  up  and  away! 

Take  Mother  and  Child,  and  ride  in  haste 
Across  the  desert  still  and  vast. 
Saddle  thine  ass  and  ride  thee  fast, 
Be  far  ere  break  of  day. 

Herod  now  seeks  the  Child  to  kill, 
Up  and  away  with  a  good-will. 
Soon  will  the  winds  of  dawn  blow  chill, 
The  day  of  blood  be  red. 

Save  thou  the  Child !  Here  will  be  moan, 
Weeping  and  lamentation  lone 
The  voice  of  Rachel  for  her  son 
Mourning  uncomforted. 

[JOSEPH  waketh  and  peereth  in  the  moonlight.     He 
then  ariseth  hastily  and  wakeneth  MARY.] 

68 


5o5epb  UhC 

Dearest,  rise  up  and  take  the  Child,        fflfGftt 
We  must  away  ere  yon  star  mild  flntO 

Wanes  in  the  day.   While  yet  He  smiled  }£0£pt 
In  sleep,  a  vision  rose, 

And  warned  of  danger  dark,  and  death. 
Wrap  thee  right  warm.     The  morning 

breath 
Is  cold,  and  cold  the  night  bloweth 
The  way  our  journey  goes. 

Alas,  and  is  it  so  soon  they  seek 

To  slay  my  Babe  new-born  and  weak? 

This  little  One  so  soft  and  meek 

No  wild  beast  would  Him  harm. 

Saddle  the  ass.    We  two  will  be 
Ready  by  then  to  ride  with  thee. 
My  Sweet  shall  take  no  chill  with  me, 
My  veil  and  cloak  are  warm. 

Come,  Little  One,  now  leave  behind 
The  town  where  we  no  roof  could  find 
The  night  that  Thou  wast  born.  Unkind 
The  desert  need  not  prove. 

For  Thee  to  whom  the  world  is  ill, 
Yea,  raveneth  like  a  wild  beast  still, 
My  white  and  innocent  Lamb  to  kill, 
Come,  tender  little  Dove ! 

[They  pass  out  into  the  darkness,  where  JOSEPH  hold- 
eth  the  stirrup-rein  of  the  ass.] 


60 


TTf%*>  [SCENE  II.— In  a  robber's  cave  in  the  desert.    MARY 

j£K  laveth  the  little  JESUS  in  clear  water,  while  by  her  side 

jf  ItQDl    LEAH,  the  robber's  wife,  suckleth  her  babe.] 

l?}^+  Xeab  Wnaetb) 

JfcQyPt  Sleep  sweet,  my  baby 

Whiter  than  snows, 
Rose  of  the  desert 

That  in  the  night  blows. 
Round  my  wan  rosebud 

Floweth  my  veil, 
Screening  my  white  rose, 

Tender  and  pale. 

Little  white  rosebud, 

Be  not  in  haste 
Yet  to  uncover 

To  the  hot  blast. 
World's  breath  will  scorn  thee, 

Cruel  winds  blow, 
Ravage  my  rosebud 

Whiter  than  snow. 

Lullaby,  my  rosebud, 

Grow  not  a  rose  ; 
Round  thee  to  shield  thee 

Mother's  veil  flows. 
Rose  of  her  darkness, 

Make  her  heart  glad — 
The  saddest  poor  mother 

That  ever  earth  had. 

Why  then,  my  sister,  dost  thou  sing 
So  sad  a  cradle  song  to  wing 
Thy  baby  into  slumbering  ? 

Nay,  sweet,  thine  eyes  be  dried. 

Kiss  his  soft  feet  and  feel  but  this, 
Thou  art  a  mother,  with  that  bliss 
Turning  all  carking  care  that  is 
To  happy  joy  and  pride. 


We  take  the  joy  and  grief  in  one,  TTbe 

We  mothers  who  have  borne  a  son,  ffit($bt 

And  would  not  wish  our  lot  undone  ifntO 

If  it  were  else  all  woes.  3£0£pt 

But  hold  my  Jesus,  and  let  me 
Thy  pretty  baby  on  my  knee 
Nurse  for  a  little.    I  would  see 

The  face  thou  holdest  so  close. 

Xeab  (weepetb) 

Lady,  ah  now,  you  touch  my  wound. 
Where  is  a  sadder  mother  found 
All  the  sad  earth  o'er  and  around  ? 
O  lady,  see  my  child, 

White  with  the  leprosy !  I  dare 
Not  touch  your  Boy's  sweet  face  and  hair 
Lest  that  my  finger-tips  should  bear 
Those  seeds  rank  and  defiled. 

dftarg 

Alas,  poor  mother,  was  this  why 
Didst  lay  thy  precious  baby  by, 
And  would  not  let  my  gaze  come  nigh 
His  piteous  little  form  ? 

Nay,  give  him  me,  and  take  my  Sweet 
That  is  all  sound  from  head  to  feet, 
The  evil  thing,  I  fear  not  it, 

It  cannot  do  Him  harm. 

Give  me  thy  son,  I  will  him  bathe 
Here  where  my  one  Son  bathed  hath. 
Great  virtue  hath  He  evil  scathe 
And  taint  away  to  take. 

[Holdeth  the  babe,  swiftly  unclothing  him.] 
7i 


UbC       Now  in  the  water  I  thee  lay. 

jf  liQbt  My  Baby's  Father,  take  away 

UntO      This  baby's  leprosy,  I  pray, 

JEcjSPt  Even  for  Thy  sweet  Son's  sake ! 

[She  raiseth  the  babe  from  the  water,  wholly  cleansed, 
and  layeth  him  rosy  in  his  mother's  lap.] 

Here  is  thy  Dimas.    Lift  thine  eyes, 
See  how  he  sweet  and  rosy  lies 
That  piteous  was  and  food  for  sighs. 
Now,  sister,  praise  the  Lord ! 

Xeab  (falletb  Down) 

I  praise  His  Name,  and  thee  He  sent, 
His  angel  and  His  instrument, 
To  work  on  me  His  good  intent, 
And  on  my  babe  and  bird. 

/Iftars 

Praise  me  not.    But  if  thou  wilt,  praise 
My  Baby  through  thy  length  of  days 
And  praise  His  Father  who  had  grace 
And  pity  for  thy  need ! 

Thou,  little  Dimas,  who  art  clean, 
I  have  a  vision  of  thy  sin, 
And  of  thy  sorrow  that  wins  in 
At  last  to  Heaven  indeed. 

0  little  Dimas,  round  and  smooth, 

1  see  thee  in  thy  lusty  youth 
Brought  down  to  death  and  shame  in 

truth; 

I  see  thee  keeping  tryst 


In  a  most  bitter  day  and  hour  XTbe 

When  men  are  mad  and  hell  hath  power,  ff  Ucjbt 
High  where  the  awful  crosses  tower,       1FntO 
Keeping  thy  tryst  with  Christ.       JEGEPt 

Little  Dimas,  when  all  is  done, 
Side  by  side  with  my  little  Son, 
Thou  winnest  in  when  Heaven  is  won, 
O  happy  little  child ! 

Now  sleep.  And  sleep,  my  Jesus  small, 
For  little  birds  are  sleeping  all, 
And  shadows  lengthen  on  the  wall, 
And  fades  the  daylight  mild. 


The  little  robber  child  was  scaled 

With  foulest  leprosy: 
Yet  Thy  sweet  bath-water  availed 

To  cleanse  and  set  him  free. 
So  cleanse  Thou  me  1 

High  by  Thy  side  the  same  was  set 

That  hour  upon  the  Rood. 
His  brow  like  Thine  had  bloody  sweat, 

His  feet  like  thine  ran  blood 
Thou  Dear  and  Good  ! 

Because  he  turned  before  he  died 
And  yearned  to  Thee  with  cries, 

Didst  call  him,  blest  one,  by  Thy  side 
To  enter  Paradise. 
Call  me  likewise  1 


THE  FINDING  IN  THE  TEMPLE 


Where  wert  Thou  then  from  dawn  to  night  ? 

From  candle-light  to  candle-light  ? 

And  what  Thy  Father's  business 

That  kept  Thee  from  her  fond  embrace  ? 

No  answer  comes  to  us  at  all. 

And  wast  Thou  rapt  away  a  while 

To  greet  in  Heaven  Thy  Father's  smile  ? 

Or  did  Thy  feet  go  up  and  down 

Still  seeking  sinners  through  the  town 

From  outer  wall  to  outer  wall  ? 

Just  once  Thy  Godhead  didst  reveal 
While  Thy  sweet  childish  years  did  steal 
Slow  and  fleet  as  a  child's  years  go. 
Subject  to  her  who  loved  Thee  so, 
And  kept  thy  sayings  in  her  heart. 

0  years  of  mystery  !  when  Thy  feet 
Strayed  'twixt  the  garden  and  the  street : 
When  Thou  didst  make  Thee  carpenter 
And  this  one's  table,  that  one's  chair 
Didst  fashion  all  with  cunning  art. 

1  would  we  had  but  one  sweet  tool 

Of  Thine— Thy  plane,  Thy  bench,  Thy  rule  1 


THE  FINDING  IN   THE  TEMPLE 

[SCENE  I. — Where  two  roads  meet,  a  day's  journey 
from  Jerusalem.  A  group  of  men  waiting,  among  them 
the  blessed  JOSEPH.  Approaching  by  one  of  the  roads  a 
band  of  women.] 

jfirst  dfoan 

Here  they  come  buzzing  like  the  bees 
In  summer  in  the  sycamore  trees, 
With  'so  folks  say,'  and  'an'  you  please,' 
The  foolish  woman's  way. 

Second  /ifoan 

Though  they  come  from  the  Passover, 
I  trow  the  chatter  doth  not  spare 
Kind  neighbours  here,  kind  neighbours 
there, 

With  'lack !'  and  '  well-a-day  !' 

GbtrD  flftan 

And  yet,  good  gossips,  who  decry 
Your  wives  and  mine,  tell  how  and  why 
Ye  think  no  other  dame  comes  nigh 
Your  own  when  all  is  said. 

3ffrst  /ifcan 

Right !    Yet  I  see  among  the  throng, 
One  who  doth  shine  our  wives  among, 
— I  do  the  honest  souls  no  wrong. — 
As  a  star  in  a  bed 

81 


UbC         Of  daisies.    'Tis  that  Mary  sweet, 
ffttlMnG  Hidden  and  draped  from  head  to  feet 
In  tbe      In  veils  of  holiness,  yet  meet 
Uemple  For  human  joy  and  pain. 

Second  dfcan 

Mary  being  with  our  wives  would  be 
No  gossip,  incivility 
Or  rude  discourse.    So  rare  is  she 
Like  some  sweet  lofty  strain. 

Gbiro  flfoan 

Now  Joseph  sees  her  full  of  grace. 
He  too  hath  lilies  in  his  face ; 
They  say  he  is  of  royal  race  : 

Right  wondrous  is  their  Son. 

fffrst  dfoan 

What  buzz  of  marvels  gathers  now 
Round  little  Jesus,  whose  white  brow 
Draweth  earth's  light  to  rest,  I  trow, 
Like  golden  thorns  thereon  ? 

dftarE  (cometb  saving  in  bcr  beart) 
Little  one,  little  Son  of  mine, 
Thy  mother's  heart  doth  ache  and  pine 
From  day's  uprise  to  day's  decline 
Wherein  she  hath  not  Thee. 

These  kindly  women's  praise  (she  saith) 

Quickens  her  heart,  quickens  her  breath. 

Thy  Father's  blessing  fall  (she  prayeth) 

On  these  that  pleasure  me. 


Sosepb  (afcvancetb)  UbC 

Thou  hast  been  slow,  my  queen,  but  fftufcfno 

where  in  tbe 

Tarries  the  Boy,  a  loiterer  ?  XTemple 

What  thing  of  earth  or  thing  of  air 
Hath  tempted  Him  to  stray  ? 

Is  it  that  he  chases  as  boys  do 
Red  moth  or  dragonfly  in  blue, 
Or  gathers  blackberries  in  dew 
A  little  down  the  way  ? 

jflRar^  (paletb) 

Is  He  not  then  with  thee  ?    When  last 
I  saw  him  to  thy  side  he  passed, 
Where  the  roads  met ;  the  throng  was 
vast 

That  either  way  defiled. 

And  thou  and  I  went  different  ways. 
My  heart  hath  drunk  all  day  his  praise 
And  ached  all  day  to  meet  His  gaze 

And  thine.    Where  is  the  Child? 

Sosepb 

Grow  not  so  pale !    He  stays  behind 

With  friends  and  kinsfolk,  warm  and 

kind, 
We  will  retrace  our  paths  to  find 
How  safe  the  path  He  keeps. 

Nay,  sweet,  can  anything  of  ill 
Happen  without  His  Father's  will  ? 
Whose  hand  is  o'er  His  own  Son  still, 
Whose  heart  keeps  watch  nor 
sleeps. 


83 


TThe  (SCENE  II.— At  the  portals  of  the  Temple.     MARY 

»£'  \±r  ^  _  cometh  weary  and  pale,  and  there  awaiteth  JOSEPH.] 

jrtnotna 
in  tbe     »«s 

Uentple  Three  days   these  hilly  streets  have 
known 
My  feet  that  bleed,  have  heard  my  groan. 
The  swords  turn  in  my  heart,  like  stone, 
That  lies  yet  hath  no  rest. 

0  heart  that  broke  when  Simeon  spake 
His  woeful  words,  again  wilt  break  ? 
Seven  swords  of  grief  for  my  Son's  sake 

Have  pierced  His  mother's  breast. 

Sosepb  (entcrctb) 

No  news  at  all,  nothing  at  all ! 
But  silence  like  a  brazen  wall, 
And  yet  what  ill  could  Him  befall 

Whose  path  the  angels  throng  ? 

My  hands  have  knocked  at  many  a  door, 
My  feet  trod  many  a  stranger  floor. 
(I  would  not  that  she  knew  how  sore 
My  heart  is.)  Sweet,  be  strong ! 

1  know  His  Passion  draweth  nigh 
Ever  and  ever  silently. 

But  day  and  hour  that  know  not  I. 
What  if  His  Father's  hour 

Had  struck !    And  He,  a  child  that  lay 
So  warm,  it  seems  but  yesterday, 
Betwixt  my  bosom  and  the  hay, 

Were  in  His  foes'  dread  power. 


84 


What  if  they  racked  Him  at  their  will,  Ube 
And  scourged  His  tender  limbs  until       jf  tnMrt0 
They  were  one  wound  !    What  if  they  in  tbC 

kill  Uemple 

My  Baby  while  we  stay ! 

Or  what  if  I  unworthy  proved 
Had  lost  that  precious  charge  beloved, 
And  He  by  angel  hands  removed, 
Were  far  and  far  away ! 

That  were  the  least  so  it  were  well 
With  Him,  dear  friend,  I  scarce  can  tell 
Mine  anguish  most  intolerable, 

The  fears  that  lurk  and  spring 

And  rend  my  soul  like  an  ill  beast. 

Sosepb 

Come,  in  the  Temple  let  us  rest. 
He  will  return  to  thy  fond  breast, 
As  bird  to  mother's  wing. 

Come,  where  the  lilies  twine  around 
The  marble  fount,  and  silver  sound 
The  waters:  it  is  holy  ground 

That  dim,  sequestered  place. 

Who  knows  if  there  we  pray  and  kneel 
His  Father's  counsel  may  reveal 
What  hiding-place  doth  well  conceal 
The    whole    world's    light    and 
grace ! 

[They  enter  the  Temple,  where  they  behold  the  little 
JESUS  discussing  in  the  midst  of  the  doctors.] 


85 


jf  inMn^  Sweet  Son,  how  hast  Thou  dealt  with 

in  tbe       us? 

temple  So  all  unkind,  unpiteous. 

It  was  not  like  Thee  to  go  thus 
And  leave  us  to  our  fears. 

Scene 

Sweet  Mother,  wherefore  fears  and  woe  ? 
Did  ye  not  know  I  come  and  go 
Upon  My  Father's  business  ?  lo ! 
That  calleth  at  mine  ears. 

JFfrst  Doctor 

Madam,  is  this  thy  Son  ?    Then  He, 
This  little  Jesus,  born  of  thee, 
Hath  all  wisdom  and  prophecy 
Upon  His  childish  tongue. 

5ccono  Doctor 

A  great  prophet  hath  risen  sure. 
The  Lord  hath  pity  on  the  poor 
And  groaning  world,  and  opes  His  door 
To  send  this  seraph  young. 

flftarE 

Kind  sirs,  my  Jesus,  whom  ye  praise, 
Is  but  a  child  in  length  of  days, 
Just  such  a  little  lad  as  plays 

At  home  about  your  knees. 

For  many  and  many  a  year  to  come 
My  little  Jesus  in  our  home 
Will  find  the  safety  sweet,  nor  roam 
From  where  His  mother  is. 


86 


My  little  Boy  beneath  our  rule  XTbe 

And  at  the  kind  dame's  village  school,  fftnfciltG 

Will  grow  both  tall  and  beautiful,  in  tbe 

And  learn  His  father's  trade.  Uemple 

I  would  not  that  by  even  a  span 
Ye  clipped  the  child's  days  for  the  man, 
Nor  that  too  fast  the  dear  years  ran 
While  yet  my  Jesus  played. 

Come,  little  Son,  come  home  !  Too  soon 
Thy  morn  will  lengthen  into  noon. 
About  our  eaves  Thy  blue  doves  croon, 
Thy  kitten  misses  Thee. 

And  Thy  small  lamb  that  groweth  big. 
Thy  garden-bed  waits  Thee  to  dig. 
The  bursting  fruit  on  vine  and  fig 
Tempts  now  the  honey-bee. 

[With  salutations  they  go  forth,  the  little  JESUS  hold- 
ing His  MOTHER'S  hand.] 


Because  Thou  wentest  mourning 
Those  three  days  up  and  down 

The  stony  streets  and  burning 
Of  that  gray  Eastern  town, 

And  on  the  hilly  street 

Thy  heart  bled  with  thy  feet. 

Because  within  the  Temple 
Thy  joy  went  on  before. 

Thy  little  Son  and  simple 
Who  taught  the  wise  His  lore, 

Took  then  thy  hand  and  went 

Home  with  thee  well-content. 

Remember  all  souls  roaming, 
Souls  sick  and  sad  and  sore 

Who  pray  not  for  His  coming 
His  feet  upon  their  floor. 

Take  thou  their  hands  and  lead 

Them  home,  aye  home  indeed ! 


Of  my  temerity 

Jesu,  assoil  me! 
That  I  have  dared  to  write, 

In  all  sincerity, 
Tidings  an  angel  might 

Tell  of  a  verity, 
With  a  pen  steeped  in  light. 

Of  my  temerity 

Jesu,  assoil  me ! 


Printed  by  R.  R.  Donnelley 
&  Sons  Co.  at  the  Lakeside 
Press,  Chicago  :  mdcccxcv 


